


Yeh Fitoor Mera, Maine Badla Re Mera Naseeb

by high_warlock_of_brooklyn



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fairy Tale Retellings, Good Parent Asmodeus (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Royal Alec Lightwood, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/high_warlock_of_brooklyn/pseuds/high_warlock_of_brooklyn
Summary: Magnus finds a wounded Royal while wondering in the Brocelind forest, and love blossoms. But, fate intervenes.Magnus now has to go against fate itself to bring back his love.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73
Collections: Hunter's Moon Fairy Tale Retelling





	Yeh Fitoor Mera, Maine Badla Re Mera Naseeb

**Author's Note:**

> Happy reading!

When someone from The Court of Heaven falls in love with a human, the punishment is severe. Heaven believes Angels shouldn’t fall in love. That Angels _don’t_ fall in love. Angels who fall in love, who dare rebel against heaven’s wrath, are punished.

Repent, or _fall._

Or so legend has it.

But haven’t you heard?

_All the legends are true._

____________________

When the holy teacher Luke Graymark makes his way on the backyard of the Labyrinth, he didn’t expect to be almost mauled by two of his students. Ragnor and Catarina both look wild eyed, vibrating with energy, their speech too fast and voice too high for him to decipher anything the first time around.

“Ragnor, Catarina. Calm down.” Luke puts each of his palms on their shoulders to steady them, while sending a pulse of calming aura inside them. Ragnor visibly sags, and Catarina breathes in a gulp of air. After Luke is sure they’re more situated than they’ve been a minute ago, he can see them gesturing at the forest wildly.

Luke sighs despite himself. Ragnor and Catarina are two of his more steady-minded students. And there’s a strict rule in the Spiral Labyrinth. _Never go in Brocelind forest without the explicit instruction of a teacher._ Luke had expected better of them.

Just as he’s about to give them a lecture on responsibility and disappointing their teachers, he can hear a muted cry coming from the forest. “Is it a _Nishi_?” An icy chill goes down Luke’s spine. Just last year two of the students, Dorothea Adams and Barnabas Hale have been lured by _Nishies_ , making them believe that a loved one is in danger, and then luring them to their death. In all his long life, Luke has never seen one. Yet, as it seems.

“Is that a-”

Ragnor cuts him off. “Sir, it’s a baby!”

Luke startles. Whatever he expected them to say, a baby was certainly not on the list. _Nishies_ lure people with the idea that someone they love is in danger. But then again, Ragnor has been in the Labyrinth ever since he was born, after his parents died in an unfortunate house fire. Catarina’s father died before she was born, even when her mother had to leave her with Luke when the royal medic diagnosed her with consumption. She died a little over a month after that, leaving Catarina in Luke’s care.

But neither of them have ever had been with a baby. So it’s unlikely any _Nishi_ ’s bait for them would be that. Which means.....

“How do you know it’s a baby?” Luke’s eyes search their faces, and there’s only concern. There’s an odd swell of pride in his heart. His students didn’t care for a punishment, or even their death, to help an innocent. “Did you see the baby?”

Ragnor and Catarina look at each other for a moment, before steeling their jaws and facing him. “Yes Teacher, we did.”

“I know we’re not supposed to,” Catarina’s voice is calm, “But we didn’t want to leave the baby without any help.”

As if on cue, there’s a cry again, and Luke sighs. “Show me.”

________________________

The baby is- well, it’s safe to say that Luke has never seen a baby like this one, and being the head of the only institution that takes in orphans and abandoned children, Luke has seen his share of babies. More than he would like to see one. People have a terrible tendency to throw a child away like garbage, it makes him doubt everything humanity stands for sometimes. The labyrinth works hard to make sure these children don’t starve to death, and are taken care of. And, if they show promise, are taken in, so they can learn to be a Spirit healer.

This child however, is special in his own right. As soon as Luke approaches him, the baby quiets down, reaching out with his chubby hands and grabbing onto Luke’s dark robes. Luke chuckles, picking him up, just as the baby starts giggling, his eyes clear. That’s when Luke notices the speciality.

Cat’s eyes. He has cat’s eyes. And they are _beautiful_.

“You’ll be a heartbreaker one day.” Luke whispers, gently rocking the baby, and looks around. The tree the baby had been lying under is not on the usual route for the Labyrinth students. It’s not even in the general vicinity. There are only shrubbery and trees nearby, no path recognizable.

_Huh._

“How did you get here?” Luke asks his students who seems to be fidgeting next to him. Ragnor’s face turns serious, and Catarina nudges him softly.

“We- um- we don’t know- exactly- how,” Catarina stammers, and Ragnor nods solemnly.

“We were supposed to collect firewood. But we somehow ended up in this place. Then we heard the baby, and well...” Ragnor trails off, gesturing at the squirming bundle in Luke’s lap.

“Does he have a note with him? With a name, maybe?” Luke asks, but it’s pretty clear from their expressions that this innocent, guileless child did _not_ have anyone caring about him enough to name him.

_Well then._

“Magnus.” Luke rasps out, and the baby claps his hands together, guzzling happily. Ragnor and Catarina share a look, before turning to Luke, curiosity sparkling in their eyes.

“Do you know the phenomenon where you think you know where a certain object might go. You can try to calculate the trajectory, as you know our scholars at the Academy do. But, even then,” Luke pauses, balancing the squirming Magnus on his hips, “Sometimes, that trajectory is not followed. For no apparent reason. You can have an entire plan, and suddenly something, or someone, changes the arc. And you end up somewhere you never would have expected.” 

"It's called the Magnus effect." 

____________________________

“Why, in the name of the Angel, am I being punished like this?!”

Luke’s voice is strained, his fingers massaging is temple thoroughly. Magnus is seated in front of him, head hung, even though there’s a teasing smirk on his face. Ragnor is seating next to him, if glares could kill Magnus would have been six feet under a long time ago. Catarina rushes in, her platinum blond plaited hair in disarray.

“Sir I apologize on their behalf! This won’t happen again!” Catarina’s voice rings clear in the cozy little office, and Luke fixes her with one of his fond I-can-see-right-through-you stares, before clearing his throat pointedly.

“And what exactly do you think is ‘this’?” Luke points between the boys, and Catarina stunts.

“I was just- it’s just- Sir-” Catarina finally heaves a defeated sigh. “I don’t know what they did, Sir.”

“Stop covering for them, Catarina. I know you mean well, but they need to learn a lesson.” Magnus looks embarrassed, and Ragnor rolls his eyes, Luke continues. “Especially after today.”

“What did you two idiots do this time?” Catarina asks in a hushed voice, and Ragnor turns to rain glare at Magnus who simply shrugs.

“We needed to know what they Peruvian students were hiding from us.” Magnus gives a casual shrug.

“Is that why I found you two running away from the Peruvian dormitory, covered in guano?” Luke arches his eyebrows, and Catarina suppresses a giggle.

“You two were covered in guano?”

“Yes,” Ragnor’s glare intensifies. “Someone, I’m not gonna point fingers, but they’re in this room right now, told me to have some spirit of adventure, smell the roses. And now I smell like bat poop!”

“Magnus, anything you want to add?”

“All I know that I was right, they _were_ in fact, hiding stuff. Vomit-inducing, smelly and disgusting stuff, but stuff indeed. I think I’m right and Ragnor should apologize to me for such harsh words.”

“I do apologize-”

“Thank you.”

“No, let me finish.” Ragnor turns to glare at his friend, “I apologize that my words were harsh only, and not in fact, wound-inflictingly sharp, or scorchingly heated.”

Magnus gasps loudly. “My best friend, betraying me! How would I ever manage to recover from this utter betrayal of trust and friendship!”

“Drama queen.” Ragnor rolls his eyes, and Magnus lands a swat on his arm. “Ow! I’m right and you know it! Stop hitting me!”

“Boys!” Luke messages his temple. “You’re old enough to be teachers yourselves. And Ragnor, you’re one of the most responsible ones here. I was even asked by the Elders to ask you to be my successor. I was hoping to talk to you about this today, but this kind of behaviours may annoy them. They might not want you for this post anymore.”

“What?!” Magnus almost shrieks. “You can’t actually mean that!”

“Magnus calm down!” Catarina tries to approach her friend, but Magnus simply waves her off.

“No Catarina. I mean it. Whatever these- these digressions they accuse Ragnor of, these things that they think ‘annoy’ them, they’re my problems. These are my transgressions. Don’t blame these on him.”

Luke stares at the outraged form standing in front of him. Sometimes he can’t quite believe the same boy who teases Tessa, and pranks Ragnor, and picks up those blue flowers only to get stung by the bees, is the same one who defends his friends like one of heaven’s soldiers. Magnus may be almost half his age, but even then, he towers over everyone. Especially when his eye glow like they do right now, like the heavenly fire itself blazing inside those gold-green eyes.

“Magnus, sit down.” Luke gestures at the vacated seat, and Magnus obeys, chin jutted out. “Magnus, I’m sorry said that. I will make sure the Elders know.” Magnus nods. “But this still means I have to give you two detention.”

“We understand.” Ragnor nods.

“But what if you could give both detentions to me?” Magnus leans in.

“Magnus don’t be-”

“No, I’m not being sentimental, I’m being calculating.” Magnus waves him off. “If I get both detentions, you don’t get a note, and Teacher Luke doesn’t have to lie on his resume.”

“I don’t like this,” Luke sighs. “But if Magnus is sure-”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay then. So, now for your detention.”

__________________________________

_It’s a terrible plan._ Magnus grumbles inwardly, trudging through the flowery path in the Brocelind forest. Luke had said he’d have to gather all the firewood alone, at 5 o’clock in the morning for a week. Truly a devilish detention.

 _Ugh,_ Magnus thinks, _mornings are the worst._

This detention does have its better parts, though. After all, no-one in the entire Labyrinth has a better sense of the forest than Magnus. It took almost sixteen years of introspective wanderings to get him to be the expert navigator he is today.

When Luke told him about the truth behind his eyes, and by default his birth, Magnus’ first words were a request to see the spot where they found him. He had stood there, for hours after Luke had left him, alone, and simply contemplated the faith his parents must have had in their love to dare to have him, going against all of Heaven. Magnus had hated his eyes before then, especially because of all the snide comments he usually received from the students, save Catarina, Ragnor and few others. But that day, he had realized that it was a mark, a mark of diligent and endless love that his mother had. He hadn’t shed a simple tear, just touched the soil and thanked her, and never discussed it with anyone ever again.

Since that fateful day filled with revelations, Magnus has felt an uncanny pull towards the forest, the secrets it holds. Legend has it that faeries have colonies inside the Brocelind forest, whole civilizations that are not visible to a passer-by.

Magnus might not know any hidden faery courts, but he does know the place where violets of the most beautiful shade bloom, the type of shade that Catarina loves the most. So Magnus decides to trudge through the path to find some for her, and if he can visit the spot he was found as a baby at because it falls on the way to those flowers, then well, it’s not like there’s anybody to point that out.

Magnus coos at the dove that lands in front of his feet, staying as still as humanly possible so as not to spook the bird. It nods at Magnus a little, and takes a couple of fleeting steps, before actually turning around and nodding at him as to follow it.

Magnus follows the bird slowly, watching carefully. The bird waits sometimes for him to catch up, sometimes it simply skips ahead, or just flies before landing on a rock and waiting for Magnus to catch up. Magnus eyes the bird peculiarly. Birds might not be his area of expertise, (that’s Tessa, he reminds himself), but even he knows that this can’t be normal bird behaviour.

After what seems like an eternity of following the bird, Magnus grows frustrated, talking out loud to the bird. “Where are we going, huh? Do you have something for me? Or do you just wanna play? Then I can call Tessa for you.”

The bird, steadily ignoring Magnus’ questions, skips ahead, before suddenly coming to a stop. Magnus looks at the bird, who only stares ahead of itself, Magnus follows its gaze and wait is that-

Along the shore of the river, there’s a body slumped, covered in tattered clothes, bloody. Magnus rushes to the person, and turns the body over, checking for pulse.

_Thank the Angels he’s alive!_

It’s a man, and judging by the clothes and the flame stamped medallion dangling from his neck, it’s someone from the palace. Magnus carefully splashes some water on the man’s face, and tries to make sure if there’s any grave wound. There’s a gashing wound on his forehead, staining blood all over his angelic face, but it’s shallower than the ones on his knees. His hands and sides are scraped and bruised, but there’s no mortal injury. Magnus checks him over once again, and making sure of his findings, just for his own peace of mind.

“Don’t worry Pretty Boy.” Magnus hauls the man up, slinging his arm around Magnus’ neck, “You’re gonna be fine. Absolutely fine.”

_________________________

Sometimes Luke thinks the Brocelind forest exists just for him to pick up stray children. Not that he’ll regret it. It’s just almost 20 years with Magnus has given him too many grey hair to count or to have at such an age. That’s what has been on Luke’s mind while getting ready for his morning stroll through the forest. Well, until he spotted Magnus, that is.

Magnus was limping, as it looks from a distance. Luke shudders, thinking of all the possible accidents that could have happened to Magnus in Brocelind forest. But on his way running to Magnus, the vision of Magnus is clearer, and it seems like he’s carrying someone.

“Teacher! Help!” Magnus croaks out, his voice raspy from the exertion of holding up a man taller and heavier than him. Luke runs over, taking the man’s hand, the one that isn’t wrapped around Magnus’ neck, and hauls him up on the other side.

“Magnus, let’s take him to my cottage.” Luke takes measured but quick steps, so the man doesn’t bleed out. Magnus shakes his head, guiding them in a different direction.

“My room is closer, Teacher. It isn’t good for him to walk like this.” Magnus’ logic is sound, and Luke agrees half-heartedly. It is against Labyrinth rules to have anyone outside the Labyrinth in someone’s room, but this situation is peculiar enough for him to condone this.

“Fine, Magnus. Just hurry.”

______________________________

The first thing Magnus notices after laying the man down on his bed is that the bow and quiver slung over his shoulder that somehow escaped Magnus’ notice before. Magnus carefully opens the buckle, removing the beautiful bow and the quiver full of red feather fletched arrows and putting them aside.

_An archer, huh?_

Luke returns, water and washing cloth in hand. Magnus notices Luke’s hands as he slowly and gently washes away all the grime, and dirt, and blood sticking to the man’s skin. Every deliberate stroke of the cloth reveals another strip of skin, and with it, black Marks.

Wait, Marks?

Luke startles a little, noticing the Marks, and sets the cloth by his side, instead picking up the medallion from the man’s chest. “Magnus, you told me he’s from the palace.”

“Yes, he is.” Magnus looks at Luke confusedly. “I thought that’s what that medallion meant.”

“It does.” Luke looks down at the unconscious man. “But this flame is not like the others. And these marks-”

“What ? What does it mean?”

“It means,” Luke says, his voice deep, “We have a Royal among us.” Magnus sucks in a quick breath, his eyes searching the Prince’s angelic face, wondering how a Prince from a faraway Palace ended up in Brocelind forest.

___________________________

The Royal, as it turns out, is His Royal Highness Prince Alexander Lightwood, the one who’s supposed to inherit the throne after King Robert. Magnus carefully puts his guard up once he gains consciousness. No random Prince is going to waltz in and go around demanding things like they own the place. But he waits nearby, just hanging around in case he needs anything. Luke’s medicines have worked wonders, and after this, Catarina’s salves are going to be on the medicine syllabus. She’s a true Healer, as Luke says, and visits her patient twice a day for change of bandages, and Magnus notices Prince Alexander thanking her softly every time.

Magnus waits for the orders to be barked, to be ordered to fetch water, or fan the Prince. But those never come. Instead, the Prince shyly asks for some books, and asks about the people in the Labyrinth. Sometimes he asks for some water, guiltily, like he’s doing a crime just by talking, and Magnus starts sticking around even more. Just for the little things. To help him stand, to read a book with him, to laugh every time he makes the most horrible pun, to notice when he has that tiny smile tugging at his lips.

It’s when Magnus catches himself taking a walk with him in the Brocelind forest, that he realizes how immaculately his walls have been taken down brick by brick. Alec, as the Prince had insisted on being called, is not like any Royals Magnus has heard of. He’s gentle, and shy, and so tall, but he curls around himself like he’s sorry for his sheer existence, he’s friends with animals, a feat of miracle when Tessa’s cat, Church, the grumpiest cat in the world, lets himself be petted by him. And then there’s the other side of him, Magnus has seen, when Anselm tried to bully a group younger residents. Alec had towered over him, every inch the Prince Magnus knows he is. He had made sure Anselm would never do anything like that ever again, eyes hard, voice deep, and shoulders taut, and then promptly comforted the youngest one in the group because she was frightened.

Alec has been truly and completely, nothing Magnus had expected, yet everything.

So when Magnus stands over that fated spot, explaining his true heritage, Alec doesn’t bat an eyelash. He listens, like he always does. Asking the right questions, giving Magnus time to say everything at his own pace. He looks into Magnus’ cat eyes, his gaze reverent, and asks softly if he can kiss him.

Magnus looks into those hazel eyes. Sweet Alec, with his small smiles, and shy eyes. Alec with his soft words, and those strong arms curled around that frightened child. Magnus feels like he can’t breathe, and closes the distance between them. Alec’s lips are soft, his hand shaking where he cups Magnus’ face, his eyelashes fluttering against Magnus’ cheeks. Magnus gasps into the kiss, and Alec’s grip on his waist tightens.

____________________________

It’s almost a whole month, a whole month of bliss, of stolen glances and knowing smiles, of two pairs of shy eyes asking the same question again and again, and the one opposite saying yes every time. A whole month before Alec puts on his medallion, and shoulders his bow, and reality comes crashing down on Magnus.

Alec will go back, and Magnus will have to accept that, one way or the other.

So he avoids Alec. Pushes the thoughts of him away. But Alec reads his mind, like he always does. He pulls Magnus close and whispers quiet reassurances and sweet nothings.

“Here, take this.” Alec pulls out the Lightwood family ring from his left hand, placing it on Magnus palm, and then curling Magnus’ own fingers around it. “This ring was my grandfather’s. I want you to have it.”

“Why? A souvenir to remember you by?” Magnus laughs bitterly, but a hint of regret creeps in when he sees the hurt on Alec’s face. “I don’t need anything to remember you. I love you, and I’m not going to forget that.”

“I hope you don’t.” Alec’s voice is barely above a whisper. “But my parents they- they want me to marry a woman, who I can never love.”

“Alexander-” Magnus starts.

“No, no, Magnus please. Listen to me. I’m- I’m going to take the Throne in a few months. I’m supposed to ascend after I turn 21.” Alec swallows thickly. “I can change the Law, Magnus. We can be together. Just a year, please, Magnus. Give me one year.”

Magnus looks up at Alec, searching his face for a hint of- of something- _anything_. But there’s only love, and devotion, and Magnus feels like he’s going to drown in all the feelings this impossible man incites in his heart.

By the time Alec leaves, Magnus’ vision is blurry, his fingers curled tightly around the round piece of metal that seems to be his only anchor to this world.

___________________________

The next few weeks are excruciating. Magnus gives up leaving his room for a long time, and it’s only Catarina’s gentle but relentless coaxing that he even thinks about going to the Assembly dinner. Ragnor visits, bringing him books to cheer him up, even volunteers to participate in one of Magnus’ pranks. Magnus feels it must be the Angels who blessed him to have these friends.

The weeks afterwards are a bit easier, the pain of separation eased by the thought of being able to be together. Magnus slowly eases back into his life, there’s more pranking around the campus, there’s more unauthorized walks in Brocelind forest. And with all those, Luke breathes a little easier seeing the child he practically brought up as his own is okay.

___________________________

It’s only two days from the one-year mark, when it happens. Magnus had been ecstatic, always spouting poetry around the Labyrinth. He had been daydreaming in Luke’s class, and got detention to attend to the Alter for a whole day, without any help.

That’s where it happens.

The Alter is where the entire Labyrinth gathers every morning to give offerings to the Angels. There is a giant statue of Raziel, all in Heaven’s glory, sword in hand. Magnus is supposed to guard the Eternal Flame, and make sure no-one disrespected the Angel.

Then again, in Magnus’ mind, Alec prevails, all in his glory.

That’s why he doesn’t notice when a sharp light appears behind him. Or when that light morphs into a beautiful blond, with green eyes and red wings. Or when the woman tries to call him. Or when her jaw hardens when he doesn’t pay attention.

“Magnus Bane.”

The voice booms in Magnus’ head, and like glass shattering under a boulder, Alec’s angelic face shatters in Magnus’ daydream. Magnus scrambles up, noticing the blond woman for the first time, her green eyes furious.

“I came here thinking I can reward you with my company, Bane.” Every word hits Magnus like a whip, but Magnus can’t help but wonder out loud.

“You’re an Angel, but Angels aren’t supposed to mate with humans.”

“Yet here you are.” The blond snickers. “An abomination. How dare you call yourself human?” Magnus feels the blow in those words, but holds his ground nonetheless.

“You dare reject me? And, what for? Some mortal? I should punish you for this, shouldn’t I?” The Angel is furious now, and Magnus feels his throat close up. “Perhaps I should take away your memories of him. That is why you rejected me after all.”

“No!” Magnus yells.

“Fine. Then I shall take his memories of you. It’s only fair.” She smirks.

“NO!”

“Have a good life, Bane. But he will never remember you.”

The Angel disappears in a flash of green light, and Magnus can feel his heart breaking. Each piece of Alec drifting away from him with each passing moment. Magnus tries to hold on to them, desperately, trying to hang on for his sheer life. But the hope is gone, the hope of seeing the love in those eyes again, the hope of holding him again.

Magnus doesn’t realize how long he lies on the floor before the alter, his cheeks tear-stained. Alec will never remember him, and without the memories there’s no point of hoping that he would love Magnus, or that he would even want to see Magnus. There’s no point in- in-

It’s another flash of lights that takes Magnus by surprise, especially when the light transforms into a man in front of his eyes. Magnus sits up, feeling bone-tired, until the man puts a hand under his chin and tips it up towards himself, forcing Magnus to look at him.

Cat eyes.

_Oh._

Magnus feels his whole body going taut, his eyes widening. The man smiles softly, and presses a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“My boy.”

“You’re- you’re-” Magnus feels like he might faint.

“I am Asmodeus. And I’m your father Magnus. My sweet boy. You have my eyes.” Asmodeus’ voice is thick with emotions. “And your mother’s heart. She, too, loved fiercely.”

“My- my-” Magnus feels like there are other words in the vocabulary, none that comes to mind right now, he simply stands up.

“I don’t have much time, Magnus. Raziel can’t ever know I was here. I am forbidden from seeing you.”

“Then why?” Magnus shakes his head. “Why are you here?”

“I am here because what Camille did to you was wrong. And I’m here to make it right.”

“What!” Magnus tries to wrap his head around the idea, but fails immeasurably. “What do you mean?”

“I know heartbreak, Magnus.” Asmodeus’ voice is reminiscing, unbelievably gentle. “I know how it feels to have a great love, and then have it ripped apart from you. I couldn’t save your mother from heartbreak, but I will save you.”

“Father, you-”

“Show him the ring, Magnus.” Asmodeus gestures at the Lightwood ring hanging from Magnus’ neck in a silk thread. “Show him the ring and he will remember you.”

“Father thank you!” Magnus’ eyes get misty, his hands wrapped around Asmodeus, who hugs him back with equal intensity.

Asmodeus’ form starts getting blurry, and Magnus lets him go. “Goodbye father.”

“Goodbye Magnus.” Asmodeus disappears, and Magnus wipes at his face with the back of his hand.

_Just hold on Alexander. I’m coming for you._

When Magnus informs everyone about his decision to go meet Alec in the palace, he had expected resistance. He had expected to hear about how this is the worst decisions in his life. He had expected some yelling from Catarina, some scathing commentary from Ragnor, and some sage advice from Luke.

What he didn’t expect is Catarina hugging him, tears in her eyes, while Ragnor claps his shoulder and urges him to follow his heart. And he certainly didn’t expect Luke actually offering him a carriage horse from the Labyrinth’s stable.

That’s how Magnus finds himself on horseback before the sun even rises, riding the wind at the full speed, a grin on his face.

_______________________

When Magnus enters city limits, it’s high noon. Magnus saunters up to the Palace, his smile blinding. The guards stop him, asking for reasons of arrival.

“Hello I’d like to request to hold court with the King.” Magnus sighs inward, thinking of all the ways he would greet the love of his life.

“You can go in, but you only have five minutes.”

_Five minutes is all I need._

Magnus takes a deep breath, standing outside the closed court door. Everything that happened has led up to this exact moment. Magnus takes a deep breath, sending a silent thank you to his father, and steps in.

There’s a figure with his back towards the door, a dark head bent on the maps and charts sprawled over the long table in the middle of the room. Magnus steps in, and the man turns around, and Magnus’ breath hitches.

Alec looks beautiful.

He’s a year older, and Kingly duties have suited him well. His shoulder is broader, and his jaw sharper. The dark robes, highlighted with patches of silver threaded in the pattern of flames is draped over him, and Magnus wants to hold him, and kiss him senseless.

_Until those five words._

“How can I help you?”

“What?” Magnus feels his heart fracturing.

“You requested audience with me. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Alec? Alexander?” Magnus makes a last attempt.

“I’m sorry am I missing something here?”

Magnus feels like the world around him has slowed down. He can see the crinkly lines around Alec’s eyes, the ones he has dreamed about seeing again for a whole year. He can see sweat beads on Alec’s temple, he can see the gentle but distant eyes, the amused but guarded expression.

Magnus can also feels his heart breaking in a million shards, every one of those pieces drifting away from him with every passing moment. He staggers back, a hand on his heart, before remembering what his father said.

_Show him the ring._

Magnus puts a frantic hand on his chest, trying to locate the ring, but his hand comes away empty. He looks down, bewildered, and there’s no thread. He looks up at Alec, and there’s only question in that gaze.

Magnus runs away out the doors.

___________________________

Ever since Alec became King, the Royal Garden has been his sanctuary. There’s something about these trees and birds and all the calm and quiet that seems to calm him, centre him.

He tries to take a walk through the garden everyday, just a quiet stroll by himself. For the last few days, Alec has been feeling like he’s missing something, as if there’s a part of him that’s behind a curtain he can’t pull back no matter how much he tries.

And that man today at the Court. He brought up feelings in Alec that he remembers thinking about burying years ago. A King cannot do such a thing, however much he wants-

There’s a flash of white in the corner of his eyes, and Alec turns on instinct, his eyes focused to look for any imminent threat. He approaches slowly, cautiously, looking for any sharp end of a knife, or the metal tip of a sword. And it’s-

Well, that’s unexpected.

It’s a dove, white as snow, and Alec feels his lips shape into a smile, just as the bird slowly approaches him, its head bobbing. Alec crouches down slowly, trying the spook it, and puts a palm out. The bird hops onto it, making him smile.

“Hello.” He coos, before noticing the hint of silver in the bird’s beak. “What have you got there, eh birdie?”

Alec’s pretty sure he’s going insane, because the bird seems to nod at him. He chuckles, and opens his palm, and the bird puts down something that glints in the moonlight, and flies away.

Alec looks down at his palm, and it’s a ring. There’s patterns etched on it, with red silk threaded through the ring itself, and Alec traces those flame-like symbols that seems so familiar.

There’s a rush of emotions in his heart before he can even comprehend why, or how. There are small scenes playing inside his head, words being spoken that he remembers yet can’t quite grasp, a honeysweet voice speaking that he knows he loves but doesn’t know why yet.

_May I please have some water?_

_We’re lovers, Alexander._

_May I, then?_

_Yes you may._

_They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful._

_Alexa-_

_May I please kiss you?_

_I love you, Magnus. I love you, I love you, I love you._

___________________________

Magnus doesn’t know how long he has been sitting on the Palace steps. Alec doesn’t remember him. He doesn’t have the ring. There’s no way for him to get him back.

Maybe it was better when he didn’t have the idea of getting Alec back. Losing that last sliver of hope had been shocking. Numbing. He couldn’t walk more than a few minutes before his knees gave up.

It seems like an eternity, a forever that Magnus doesn’t ever wanna go back to. Alec had been the best plot twist of his life, and now the pages are torn away by the cruel hands of fate, and Magnus feels empty.

More than that, he feels stupid.

Stupid for believing he can change the course of fate. Stupid for believing that he can have love. Stupid for believing that he can have happiness just like everyone else.

Maybe Camille was right. He is an abo-

“MAGNUS!”

Magnus wants to bang his head against the golden stairs to get that voice to quiet down inside his head, but it just keeps getting louder.

“Magnus? Magnus, can you hear me?”

It’s the press of a calloused palm on his shoulder that sends a jolt down his spine, making him turn around so fast that he gets a whiplash. Alec’s standing there, his perfect hair standing up every which way, his eyes frantic, panting out of breathe.

He looks every bit the Alec Magnus knows and loves.

“I remember, Magnus!” Alec all but yells, his eyes glistening with emotions. “I remember! I love you I love you I love you!”

Magnus almost sobs, tears falling freely down his cheeks. “I love you too.”

Wrapped up as they are in each other, none of them notice a white dove flying far away, before disappearing into a flash of bright light.

________________________________

It is said the Angels themselves blessed King Alexander and his consort with immortality, as a reward of true and devoted love. They lived a long life, before letting their successors take over. People say, to this day, if you catch a flash of gold cat eyes while walking on the street, it is always accompanied by two warm smiles, and loving gazes wrapped up in their own little world.

Or so legend has it.

But then again, always remember this.

_All the legends are true._

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song 'Yeh Fitoor Mera' by Arijit Singh. This bit means, 'My love or my obsession has led me to change my fate'.  
> Thoughts?  
> Tell me in the comments, or find me on tumblr @christopher-lightwood-my-heart 💙


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